


Malfoy's Hair

by insert_nom_de_plume



Series: Malfoy's Hair [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Drarry, Hand-job, M/M, Sex, YouTube, draco discovers muggle technology, draco with long hair, draco's hair - Freeform, hair hair hair, harry binge watches every video of draco, harry has an obvious crush on draco, harry is obsessed with draco's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 03:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insert_nom_de_plume/pseuds/insert_nom_de_plume
Summary: In which Harry Potter stumbles upon Youtube, and discovers that Malfoy has really, really, nice hair.





	Malfoy's Hair

Harry Potter stared down at his muggle smart phone, and then stared some more.  
  
Ron had sent him a link via text (something he must have done with Hermione's help because he severely doubted he could have managed that task on his own. Besides, his thumbs were too big, and Harry made sure of always mentioning so), and captioned it with, "You won't believe your eyes."  
  
He was right. Harry couldn't believe his eyes.  
  
The man on his screen had achingly familiar blonde hair. It tumbled down to his shoulders, until his long, pale fingers twisted it back into a complicated hairstyle. Harry watched the procedure with rabid attention as Malfoy babbled on in his notoriously sarcastic tone. He spoke to the camera with ease, and often made silly jokes. Harry could hardly breathe.  
  
The screen eventually turned black, and Harry was forced to take his eyes off. He needed more. Initially, he thought he could use this against the pretentious git the next time they had to come face to face, but his feelings rapidly changed from frustration to utter fixation. He needed more.  
  
So he found more. He found a lot more, and it seemed like Malfoy had picked up this hobby ages ago.  
  
Slowly, Harry found himself falling down an endless route of videos. Malfoy twisting his hair into buns, and braids, and twists that Harry never knew existed. He'd never seen Malfoy's hair in those arrangements ever before, but now he wished he had. He wished he'd paid closer attention to how fast Malfoy's hair had grown, how much silkier they seemed since their boyhood.  
  
He wondered if anyone else knew about this. How many of his friends had seen this? Did they laugh at their childhood nemesis, or were they just as addicted as Harry was? He doubted it was the latter, and he was in too deep with one particular video where Malfoy was curling his sodding hair with a hair curler, that he didn't bother to check.  
  
Time ticked, and hour after hour, Harry tore through Malfoy's videos. His voice now echoed in Harry's head. Something needed to be done about it, but he just couldn't care. He needed to watch every video, until there weren't any left.  
  
He watched so many, that he noticed Malfoy's older videos were filmed in a different location, that his hair was a tad bit shorter, that he talked a little softer.  
  
Harry's stomach turned. _No, no, no._  
  
But he didn't stop. He didn't stop until the videos stopped, and he let out a loud, shaky exhale.

* * *

  
  
"Ron, I'm going to kill you?"  
  
"What did I do?" Ron protested, looking at him with his wide eyes.  
  
"That link you sent me."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The video of Malfoy, and his stupid hair, and his stupid voice."  
  
Ron grinned. "What a fool, right?"  
  
Hermione set the rest of their dinner down on the kitchen table. "Who?"  
  
"Malfoy," Ron and Harry said simultaneously.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Is this about the video? I knew I shouldn't have sent it to Ginny. I just thought that one braid would look really good on her hair."  
  
"You what?" harry asked.  
  
"I don't see what the big deal is about," she said. "Yes, he was an arse, but no one can deny he's skilled with his fingers."  
  
Ron pulled a face. "Please don't say that ever again."  
  
"I meant with his hair."  
  
"I'm sure he is with other things too," Harry blurted.  
  
The table fell silent as his two best friends stared at him.  
  
He groaned and buried his head in his arms. "There is something wrong with me. Seriously, seriously, wrong with me. Ever since Ron sent that bloody link, I can't get Malfoy's stupid face out of my head."  
  
When he finally looked up, Hermione and Ron were both still staring at him.  
  
"Help," he said.  
  
Hermione finally turned to Ron. "This is your fault. You fix this."  
  
"What?" he exclaimed. "It's not my fault Harry suddenly lost his mind!"  
  
"I have. I've lost my goddamn mind over an arse like Malfoy, and I'll never be sane again."  
  
"Stop being dramatic," Hermione snapped. "Just don't watch any of his other videos."  
  
Harry almost started sobbing. "But I've watched them all."  
  
"All?" Hermione seemed just as distressed. "There are at least a hundred of them."  
  
"I know," harry said weakly. "What am I going to do?"  
  
"Just don't watch his new one."  
  
Harry looked up. "There's a new one?"  
  
"No," Hermione said quickly. "There isn't. Just don't watch one if there ever is a new one, which there isn't, by the way."  
  
"Mate," Ron dropped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You're fucked."  
  


* * *

  
  
Harry was more than just fucked.  
  
After Hermione forbid the topic at the dinner table and started handing out the salad, Harry thought perhaps he did have a chance of forgetting about Malfoy.  
  
But as soon as he traveled back home through floo powder, he reached for his phone and looked through Mafloy's videos until he found a new one. Posted only five hours ago. Harry's skin tingled as he ignored Hermione's advice and clicked on the new video.  
  
It was just as good as the other ones. If anything, Malfoy seemed even more talkative in this one, something Harry thought he would never use to describe Malfoy. Malfoy's pale hair seemed luminous as he brushed it through with an expensive looking comb. Harry wondered how he kept all his videos muggle-proof, knowing that the slimy git used an infinite amount of hair potions to keep his hair in its pristine state.  
  
Not that it mattered. Harry watched him brush his hair, part it down the middle, and continue to braid it in quick steps that had Harry's head spinning to catch up with the movements.  
  
After he was done watching the video, Harry dragged his feet to his bedroom mirror and stared.  
  
His hair was short. It was messy, and curly, and it stuck in every direction. Harry combed through it with his fingers, trying to experience what Malfoy must have in every one of his videos. But his locks got tangled too easily, and they didn't comply with his flimsy fingers the way he wanted them to.  
  
He sighed with resignation, and vowed to never view Malfoy's videos ever again. He could no longer endure any more of his confidence and shiny hair.  
  


* * *

  
  
"I have a solution for your obsession, although Ron is supposed to help, but he seems incapable of believing that you are in this deep."  
  
It had been a week since Ron had sent Harry the link, and so far, he'd been able to restrain from watching any more of Malfoy's video. Hermione had owled him that morning and asked if he would join her in one of their favorite muggle cafés.  
  
"I don't have an obsession," he said. "In fact, I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Yes, you do. You're still thinking about him."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"So you do know what I'm talking about."  
  
Harry winced. "I hate you."  
  
"That's understandable, too." Hermione lifted a cup of tea to her lips. "I have an idea."  
  
"Do I want to know?"  
  
"There's a gala in a few days-"  
  
"No," Harry said. "I'm not going."  
  
"And I have a reason to believe that Malfoy's going to be there."  
  
Harry ignored the tingle down his spine. "Is that supposed to change my mind?"  
  
"Harry, you're my friend, and I love you, but you're a terrible liar."  
  
Harry slumped in his chair and cradled his own cup of tea. "How could this help? If anything, it will only make matters worse."  
  
"I think you should try it anyway, and see what happens."  
  
"Are you planning anything?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes.  
  
"No. All you need to do is be there."  
  


* * *

  
  
So Harry was there. He dressed in his only expensive robes, didn't even bother with fixing his hair, and tucked his wand in his pocket before Apparating away.  
  
The ball room that held the gala was lit up in a thousand different floating candles. They bobbed in the air and cast a golden glow around the area. Harry was almost instantly surrounded by different people. The minister made a show of greeting him, and welcoming him to the event. He placed a firm hand on Harry's back and ushered him around the place. Harry was forced to shake hands with many people he would never remember, and every familiar face he spotted was too far away from him. He found Hermione while he was forced to embrace an elderly stout woman, but when he dislodged, she was no where to be seen. Ron was by the drinking fountain, but every time Harry made an excuse to leave, someone else would take a hold of him.  
  
Finally, he found Ginny chatting with a stranger, and headed towards her without interruption.  
  
As soon as he was within walking distance to Ginny, she took the stranger's hand and walked off.  
  
Harry's shoulder slumped. Luckily, he had escaped the crowded middle of the room, and managed to sneak off into an open balcony.  
  
"Potter."  
  
Harry thought he was having the worst day yet, and he had defeated a dark wizard in his life time.  
  
"Malfoy, sorry, I was just," Harry stumbled over his words as he waved his hands around and avoided eye contact.  
  
"Yes, that makes total sense."  
  
Harry sighed and finally looked up.  
   
He wished he hadn't when he found Malfoy leaning comfortably against the balcony rail. The first button in his crisp shirt was loose, and one of hands cradled a half-empty glass of what looked like firewhisky.  
  
His hair was pulled back in a simple, single braid. Harry would have felt disappointed if the braid hadn't sat so casually over one of Malfoy's shoulder, loose strands escaping its hold and framing his sharp face.  
  
"Are you drunk?" he asked.  
  
"Ever the civilized wizard," Malfoy commented, whirling the drink in his hand so the ice cubes clinked together.  
  
"You seem drunk."  
  
"You seem flustered. Are you sure I'm the one who should be drunk?"  
  
Harry felt his cheeks flush further. "I haven't had a drink."  
  
"Pity. We should change that, don't you think?"  
  
Harry watched in surprise as Malfoy pulled out his wand and conjured another glass. He poured firewhisky from the tip of his wand into the glass, and then levitated it towards Harry. "Cheers."  
  
Harry's fingers curled against the glass tightly, and Malfoy stashed his wand away. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Obviously, I was invited."  
  
"I meant outside." Harry took a sip of the drink to appear more laid back, but he almost choked when it burned a path down his throat.  
  
Malfoy watched him with amusement. "What are _you_ doing outside?"  
  
"Escaping the crowd. Fresh air," he mumbled.  
  
"Poor, Potter. Can't handle everyone's attention even after so many years of infinite fame."  
  
"Jealous, Malfoy?"  
  
"Not even close."  
  
Harry glared at him, but it quickly ebbed away. "I don't feel like arguing."  
  
"Then leave," Malfoy said simply.  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"Then I will. Pleasure seeing you again," Malfoy set his glass against a ledge and walked past Harry towards the door.  
  
Harry's hand darted out to catch Malfoy's wrist. "Wait. Can't we just both stay here? I hate it in there, and the weather's surprisingly tolerable."  
  
Malfoy glanced down at where Harry's fingers wrapped around his arm, and Harry let go as if Mafloy's robes were made out of fire, heart racing at the sudden feeling.  
  
"Fine," Malfoy relented. "Just, keep your distance."  
  
He resumed his position against the rail, and Harry found a comfortable bench to settle in. He watched the city's lights as they flickered and zipped around beneath them. The night air was refreshing, and he found himself relaxed enough to take several sips of his drink until his glass was empty and he set it aside.  
  
Malfoy was watching him with a calculated look. "Refill?"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
"You hair is a mess," Malfoy said.  
  
Harry self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know. Didn't bother with it. There's no way it will ever stay in place."  
  
"Let me try," Malfoy said, pushing away from the rail and advancing towards him.  
  
Harry held his breath. "There's no need to bother. Really."  
  
"I'm relatively experienced with hair, Potter. Let me try."  
  
"It's all yours, then," Harry said, almost breathlessly.  
  
Malfoy's long fingers were in his hair, and Harry couldn't move his eyes away from Malfoy's face. It was so close to him now, that even in the dimly lit balcony, he could see the silver irises that he had emblazoned in his mind in the past few days.  
  
his fingers worked in his hair, and Malfoy began to frown as the curls struggled against his careful touches. “Your hair is impossible.”  
  
“I know,” but it came out as barely a whisper, and Mafloy’s eyes met his with a heated flush down Harry’s body.  
  
He wanted to push Malfoy’s hands away, but also tug them deeper into his hair. Malfoy stared at him, as if trying to decide which way to go.  
  
His fingers continued running through Harry’s hair, and he slowly looked away. “We could try a potion.”  
  
Harry didn’t bother speaking again, so he just nodded.  
  
Malfoy produced a potion and tried easing that into Harry’s hair. “It’s almost better.”  
  
“That’s an improvement.”  
  
“I can tell.”  
  
Malfoy’s fingers left his hair entirely. “Perhaps it’s not meant to be. Would you still like the potion? I could owl another one to you. I have plenty at home.”  
  
Harry nodded, and struggled to find his voice. “If that’s no trouble.”  
  
Malfoy still appeared thoughtful. “Perhaps if you used it on several occasions, it could have an overall improvement on you hair.”  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
“Good.” Malfoy took a step back. “Good.”  
  
“I should go, shouldn’t I?” Harry asked, clearing his voice. “Let them know I haven’t left.”  
  
“Or you could simply leave,” was Malfoy’s response. He took a peek into the ball room, and said, “They all appear severely intoxicated.”  
  
“Then I will blend right in.”  
  
“You didn’t have that much to drink.”  
  
“But certainly enough.” Harry stood to his feet. “Pleasure seeing you again, Malfoy.”  
  
“Likewise. Potter.”  
  
They stood facing one another for a moment.  
  
“If,” harry spoke quickly. “Theoretically, if I stayed. What would happen?”  
  
Mafloy’s brows creased. “What would happen?”  
  
“Yes, what would happen?”  
  
“One of us would leave eventually.”  
  
“And if I simply left, where would I go?” Harry asked. “Should I go inside or should I go home?”  
  
“That’s your decision to make?”  
  
“Will you come with me? Wherever I choose?”  
  
Malfoy’s cheeks flushed, even in the dark, and he scowled at Harry. “I’m not sure I follow.”  
  
Harry took a step forward. “Will you come with me?”  
  
Malfoy’s eyes ran across Harry’s messy hair, and then fell to his lips. “Yes.”  
  
Harry placed a hand on his arm and then Apparated them both home.  
  
They appeared inside Harry’s bedroom, and both looked away.  
  
Harry’s eyes landed on his bed and he cursed himself for being so blunt.  
  
Malfoy wandered around the room. “You don’t own a single hairbrush.”  
  
“They all break eventually.”  
  
“You’re impossible.”  
  
“So are you,” Harry retorted. Finally swallowing down his nerves, he sat on the edge of his mattress.  
  
Malfoy’s fingers skimmed over some of Harry’s messy belongings. He eventually looked towards Harry, and froze. “Where can I hang my coat?”  
  
“Don’t bother with that,” Harry had shrugged his off the moment their feet touched solid ground, and it now laid in a crumpled heap on his carpet.  
  
“Unlike you, I have manners, Potter.”  
  
Harry sighed. “Honestly. Just throw it over that chair.”  
  
"That chair," already held a few of Harry’s ties and coats, but Malfoy did as he was told.  
  
“Merlin, I should have had another drink.”  
  
Then he was standing between Harry’s leg, and pushing him down towards the bed until his back hit the sheets. “Buck up.”  
  
Harry pushed himself to the end of the bed, and Malfoy followed him. Their mouths touched and what followed was a series of struggles on who could kiss harder, kiss better, kiss hotter. Tongues danced, and teeth grazed, and lips burned as Harry managed to finally run his fingers over Malfoy’s hair. He undid the braid and let the pale hair cascade over him. Their mouths pulled away, and Harry combed his fingers through what felt like silk. “Finally.”  
  
Malfoy smirked down at him, and took the opportunity to capture his lips again. Shirts went flying, and trousers followed. Malfoy’s grasped Harry’s hips tightly before he pressed both their hips together. Harry let loose a strangled noise, skin heating up as he felt Malfoy’s erection press against his through the thin material of his pants.  
  
“You’re burning up,” Malfoy breathed, giving another thrust if his hips. Harry tossed his head back as he gripped the sheets with his fingers.  
  
“No shit.”  
  
“Language.”  
  
“You’re doing no better with your tongue.”  
  
Malfoy huffed a surprised chuckle as his tongue left a fiery hot path down Harry’s neck. “I’m leaving a mark.”  
  
Harry didn’t have a chance to reply as Malfoy’s teeth grazed his skin, he seemed to suck everything from Harry’s neck.  
  
“Fuck, stop.”  
  
Malfoy pulled back. “Too much?”  
  
“No. Not enough.” Harry was practically rutting against Malfoy’s half-hard erection. Impatient, he finally pulled their pants down.  
  
“Better?”  
  
Harry’s eyes swallowed in the image of Malfoy’s perfect cock, the way it bounced every time he made a move, the way his own cock brushed against it when he lifted his hips this way or that.  
  
His heart hammered against his chest, and he reached down and touched himself. He looked up into Malfoy’s hungry eyes as if daring him to make him stop. Malfoy wasn’t an idiot. He took Harry into his own hands as he settled on his lap, legs on either side of Harry.  
  
“You look so good,” he said. “Your hair.”  
  
Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair while he thumbed the pre-cum on Harry’s tip, and smeared some of it down the rest of his length. “What about my hand? Is this okay?”  
  
“More than.”  
  
Harry’s breath hitched as Malfoy continued to moved his hand up and down his length. “Touch yourself.”  
  
“Why do I have to listen to you?”  
  
“Because you want to. You thought of it too.”  
  
Malfoy’s fingers brushed against his own cock, making a show of knowing how to handle his own arousal and reminding Harry that he’d done it many times before. He touched them both, each hand working on a different shaft, until he let go of his own cock to hold them both in one had. It was rough, with nothing but pre-cum to aid Malfoy’s movements. Harry hadn’t had a decent shag in a very long time, and he was reminded of that when it didn’t take but a few more yanks to have him spilling all over Malfoy’s hand.  
  
“Let me,” and Harry pushed Malfoy down and spat on his hand before jerking him off.  
  
He watched as Malfoy’s expression changed, as his body shook, and he released. All of it was enough to already cause a twitch in his cock.  
  
“Fuck, Malfoy.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Harry slumped onto his side as they both stared at the ceiling and struggled to catch their breaths.  
  
“You have a fetish for my hair?” Malfoy said breathlessly, casting a quick cleansing spell.  
  
“Shut up.”


End file.
